


A Little Longer

by AShortWalkToDelinquency



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends to Lovers, Gentle Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:48:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24189139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AShortWalkToDelinquency/pseuds/AShortWalkToDelinquency
Summary: Following the explosion and three story fall onto Gil's car, Gil takes Malcolm home and they finally realize their feelings for one another.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright
Comments: 14
Kudos: 104





	A Little Longer

**Author's Note:**

> It's sort of my first foray into something this gentle, so hopefully it turned out alright!
> 
> Big thanks to TheCosmicMushroom for the beta!
> 
> Also, thanks to Sanyo for the idea of Gil peeling Malcolm out of that white suit, and to Kate for suggesting the scar as the catalyst to get things moving 🙂

"I think I'm gonna miss my flight," Malcolm groans before falling back onto what used to be the roof of Gil's LeMans.

For a split second, everyone freezes. When the shock wears off, Gil runs the rest of the way to the car, shoes crunching through shattered glass and scattered bits of debris. He skids to a stop near the driver's side, chest heaving as the adrenaline sets his heart beating double time against his ribs, just as Bright is pulling himself up.

"No, no, no," Gil insists, laying a hand on Bright's chest and pushing the kid gently back down. "Jesus Christ, Bright, you just fell from a third story window! Stay put until the medics check you over." They both know that it's fear, not anger, that has Gil practically shouting, but it does the trick regardless; Malcolm huffs out a laboured breath before relaxing once again in the wreckage beneath him.

JT and Dani pick their way around the littered fragments of the blast to the passenger side, Dani's forehead creased with worry and JT looking like the textbook definition of 'what the fuck?'.

"Bright, you good?" There's a tremor in Dani's voice that tells Gil she's more shaken up than she's letting on. He knows how hard it is for Dani to let people in, but somehow the profiler has wriggled his way past her defenses. Gil's been watching with pride as their relationship slowly blooms into what he hopes will become a lifelong friendship. Her panic was damn near tangible when Bright was holding the bomb — she cares about him, and he knows she's not used to that. Her trust issues run deep, and he _almost_ feels bad that it's Bright she's chosen to forge a friendship with. Bright, who steps in front of armed killers to talk them down, who chases serial killers into dark tunnels, who throws himself onto landmines to protect his team. He knows better than anyone that it's a daunting prospect, caring for Malcolm Bright.

"I'm fine," Malcolm says breathlessly, but it's less than convincing as he wraps an arm around his ribs and bites down on another groan.

Scowling down at Malcolm, JT shakes his head as he asks, "Really, bro? Your plan was to jump out a window? That's a stupid plan." Gil hears the concern beneath the surface of the harsh words, knowing JT, too, cares about the safety of their worrisome profiler.

Malcolm turns his head to the man and chuckles, wincing at the way the movement tugs at his abused body. "I mean, it worked. I'm alive. And I got the gun!" He hefts the gun, grunting as the movement jars his battered muscles, and the three detectives instinctively lean away from the brandished weapon before JT, mouth drawn in disapproval, reaches over and gingerly removes the pistol from his hand. 

Bright's arm drops to his stomach, and he huffs out another breath. The pinched look at the corner of his eyes suggests that the initial shock is wearing off and the pain is setting in. Thankfully, there are already medics on scene. JT and Dani step back, making way as the paramedics rush over with a stretcher and start tending to their patient. Gil steadfastly refuses to leave Malcolm's side, waving his team over to provide direction, as the paramedics perform their initial assessment. 

"Get the gun to Forensics and see if there's anything left of our crime scene. Keep me updated but get the ball rolling on this," Gil keeps an eye on Malcolm as he speaks, irrationally worried that Bright will shatter into a million pieces as soon as he looks away. "I'm going to stay with Bright while he's checked out and then make sure he gets home alright." He doesn't need to ask if they'll be okay; he chose his team for a reason — they're capable and intelligent and can certainly handle the preliminary investigation on their own.

Though they've been nodding at Gil while he gives them their orders, Dani and JT both toss worried looks towards Bright as he whimpers at the medics' probing. Bright doesn't even look over to the three detectives as he assures everyone, "I'm fine."

JT shakes his head — again — and turns on his heel, muttering indistinctly as he waves a hand, brushing off the entire ridiculous situation as he heads back to the crime scene. Gil can't help the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He's had 20 years to acclimate to Bright's absurd levels of exasperation, but it's still a new experience for JT.

Dani rolls her eyes but steps closer to Malcolm, laying a hand just above his elbow and giving a light squeeze. Malcolm turns his attention from the paramedics back to Dani and Gil, conjuring up a weak smile that does little to mask the pain etched on his face.

"Take care of yourself for a change, hmm?" Dani chides, but her worried gaze softens the reprimand. Malcolm nods once, before the paramedics are scolding him for moving, trying to get a cervical collar on him while Malcolm protests as vehemently as he can manage. Dani chuckles and turns to Gil, stage whispering, "Good luck," and then heading off to find JT so they can start digging into their ‘Villefort's’ life.

Gil hangs his head with a heavy sigh, allowing himself a few seconds to mentally prepare for the coming battle. Malcolm is already trying to wriggle his way off the car, against the recommendations of the frustrated paramedic that's still trying to keep him immobilized. 

"For the love of—" Gil mutters under his breath before shouting, "Bright, would you let them do their job?!" Gil's already dreading the next few hours of waiting at the hospital for X-rays and CT scans and whatever else needs to be ordered following a three-story fall onto Gil's most prized possession.

Now that he knows that Malcolm is (mostly) alright — enough to be pissing off the paramedics, at least — he spares a moment to mourn for his LeMans. He's thankful it was there to save the kid's life, but that doesn't mean he's going to miss it any less. He spares it one last, heartbroken glance before turning his attention back to Bright as he slides off the car but refuses to be loaded onto the stretcher, insisting that he doesn't need to go to the hospital. Gil's played this game far too many times and knows exactly how it's going to play out, so he goes straight for middle ground.

"You're going to the hospital, kid. We'll drive if you don't want to take the ambulance," Gil knows he sounds as weary as he feels, but really, he's getting too old for this.

Malcolm casts an apologetic look at the LeMans, hanging his head and refusing to meet Gil's eye as he works with the paramedics to get the blast vest off. The way Malcolm is clenching his jaw as he moves tells Gil just how much he's hurting, but he has enough experience with Malcolm Bright injuries to know what comes next; Malcolm will downplay everything and attempt to sign himself out the minute they walk through the hospital doors.

In the end, the visit to the hospital is six hours of deep-breathing exercises and apologies to the poor nurses who are stuck trying to wrangle Malcolm. It's worth it, though, for the clean-ish bill of health that Malcolm receives by the end of his stay. As expected, the doctors warn him to expect some severe bruising on the entirety of the backside of his body. Outside of that, though, a few bruised ribs and minor lacerations are all he has to contend with.

With a relief that Gil would swear he can feel, Malcolm receives his discharge papers. He changes out of the hospital gown and back into his ruined white suit for the cab ride home, though Gil finds far less entertainment value in the outfit now. The ride is a quiet affair; Malcolm staring blindly out the window, and Gil watching Malcolm wince with every bump and turn. The painkillers Malcolm took as they left the hospital clearly haven't kicked in yet, and halfway to Malcolm's apartment, Gil can't stand the pain that's lining his face any longer. He scoots closer to the middle of the car, laying his arm across the seat behind Malcolm and giving his sleeve a light tug to urge him over. 

Malcolm glances up at him, tired eyes widening in surprise for just a moment before he leans up against Gil's side, letting the man support his weight to keep him from using his core to balance himself. A small sigh escapes Malcolm's lips as he relaxes into Gil's body, and Gil tucks him in just a little bit closer as a warmth wells up deep inside his chest.

They spend the rest of the ride embracing the solace of each other's presence, though Gil has to remind himself more than once that it's only about comfort and nothing more. It's difficult for him to dismiss how he feels for Bright at the best of times, but when Malcolm's pressed up against him, vulnerable and injured, the protector in Gil comes out in full force. It's so much more difficult to deny his feelings when they're screaming at him to wrap Malcolm up, take care of him, and show him how loved he is. But he pushes the less-than-platonic feelings aside and forces himself to focus on getting him home and settled in, entirely ignoring the twinge of lust low in his gut as he imagines strapping Malcolm into his bed.

When they pull up in front of Malcolm's place, Gil is quick to pay the fare then hurry to Malcolm's side, arriving just as Malcolm pushes the door open and stiffly swings his legs out. It's painful just to watch, and Gil offers his arm for Malcolm to lever himself up, keeping a hand on his shoulder to keep him steady. He doesn't miss the way Bright winces as he straightens up, and knows that his ribs must be aching something fierce. He gives Malcolm a moment to breathe through the pain, wishing there was a single damn thing he could do to help, before they make their way into the building. 

It's a slow trudge up what feels like endless flights of stairs, but eventually Gil leads Malcolm into the apartment and asks, "Bed or couch?"

"Uh," Malcolm pants as he tries to catch his breath, small beads of sweat forming on his forehead from the hike up the stairs. He looks down at his ruined white suit with an adorable mixture of satisfaction and remorse, and Gil's has to bite back a smile, knowing Malcolm is thinking what Jessica will say about him managing to destroy the suit she bought him. "I think I'd like to change first. But, um, I think I might need a hand." Malcolm seems embarrassed by the admission, but Gil isn't surprised. The kid can barely move; it's going to be incredibly difficult to remove his suit without hurting himself even further.

"Sure thing, city boy. Though it's a shame to lose the suit so soon. The team hasn't had this much fun in ages," Gil chuckles as he helps Malcolm up the single step into his bedroom. At Malcolm's direction, Gil gathers a pair of sweatpants and a worn t-shirt from his dresser, before returning to stand in front of him. Malcolm's trying to shrug his jacket off when Gil returns, biting down on his lip as pain visibly spikes through him when he pulls his shoulders back.

"Bright, stop. I know you like to think you're invincible, but you threw yourself out of an exploding building and used my car to break your fall," Gil says, moving around Malcolm to drop the clothes on his bed. Standing just a step behind Malcolm — valiantly suppressing the urge to just wrap his arms around him and hold him until the pain goes away — he reaches over Malcolm's shoulders to slip his fingers beneath his jacket. Stubborn as always, Malcolm still tries to help, hissing as he moves, and Gil lays a warm hand on his shoulder, saying, "Stop. Let me help."

Though Gil doesn't hear the sigh, the rise and fall of Bright's shoulders says that he's reluctantly giving in. It's always been difficult to convince Malcolm to let people take care of him; even as a boy, after everything he went through, Bright always refused the help he so desperately needed. And every time Malcolm chooses to walk his path alone, it pierces Gil's heart and leaves an aching void deep in his soul. He knows Malcolm doesn't think he deserves to be cared for, and Gil's not sure how to convince him otherwise. 

Thankful that Malcolm seems willing to let him help right now, Gil gently pulls the white jacket back and slides it down Malcolm's arms. The suit is likely ruined beyond repair, but Gil still lays the jacket out on the trunk at the foot of the bed, taking care with the fabric because Bright's suits are an extension of himself — a protective layer that Gil knows is important to Malcolm, which means it's important to him, too.

After setting down the jacket, he makes his way in front of Malcolm to find him already undoing his buttons, eyes downcast as his hands move down his shirt. There's a faint blush sweeping Malcolm's cheeks and Gil can't help but think how beautiful he looks with a flush of colour to his fair skin, unable to keep his mind from wandering as he waits for Malcolm to finish with his task. 

Once Malcolm has all of the buttons undone, Gil reaches out to tuck his thumbs beneath Malcolm's shirt, nudging it back and over his shoulders, keeping hold as it slides down his arms to his hands. Gil's eyes sweep down Malcolm's body as it's exposed, but come to a sudden, grinding halt at the scar on Malcolm's side. The stab wound is still healing, still red and raw and maring Bright's otherwise flawless skin.

Gil had seen photos of Malcolm's injuries following his abduction while he prepared the case report, but seeing the evidence in person is something else entirely. It suddenly seems that much more real, and it hits him hard just how close he came to losing Malcolm that day. If the knife had gone any deeper, or if Malcolm hadn't freed himself when he did and had continued to bleed out on the floor of that cell, Gil wouldn't be here now, helping the kid undress after yet another life threatening stunt. Instead, he would be standing at Malcolm's grave.

Gil is pulled from his thoughts as Bright breathes out a nearly silent, "Oh."

Looking up to see a dawning realization spreading over Bright's features, Gil is suddenly aware that he'd frozen in place as he stared at Malcolm's wound. He feels a surge of warmth creep through his veins at how intimate their current position is, with Malcolm trapped in the circle of Gil's arms and the shirt he was helping to remove. 

Embarrassed at his complete lack of discretion, Gil steps back, taking the shirt along with him and leaving Malcolm's toned torso bared. Gil fights against the heat rising in his face, taking a moment to gather enough fortitude to look Malcolm in the eyes, ready to apologize, to explain, but he's met with a smile so pure that it takes his breath away.

"Correct me if I'm misreading this," Malcolm says quietly, the smile still pulling at his lips, "but you want me. It's more than that, though, isn't it? You have feelings for me." The question of it dies as he speaks, turning into a statement instead, and for a change, Gil curses Malcolm's ability to read people so easily.

"Kid, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," Gil hurries to explain, nervously wringing Malcolm's shirt in his hands as he speaks. "I understand if you want me to leave, I can have Powell come over to help you instead—"

"Gil," Malcolm interrupts, "it's fine. More than fine, really." Malcolm takes a step forward and wraps his hands around Gil's, encouraging him to drop the shirt to the floor. 

Heart double-timing in his chest, Gil releases the shirt, the wrinkled fabric fluttering to the floor as Bright's warmth seeps into his hands. He tries to swallow around the lump that's suddenly blocking his throat, but his mouth is so dry that he can't seem to manage. Malcolm is looking at him in a way that he's never dared to let himself imagine, and he's not entirely sure what to say.

Malcolm seems content to wait, Gil's hands held loosely in his own, with that beautiful smile sitting easily on his face.

"Bright," Gil finally chokes out, "you're gonna have to dumb this down for me. What are you saying?"

"I'm saying," Malcolm says, moving impossibly closer, "that I feel the same way."

Gil barely has a chance to process the words, let alone how he feels about them, before Malcolm is standing on his tiptoes and leaning in to Gil, their hands clasped tightly between them. 

After so long holding himself back, Gil finally lets go. He meets Bright halfway, their lips brushing lightly, drawing quiet sighs from them both. Gil reaches one of his hands up to cup the back of Malcolm's head, pulling him in and deepening the kiss. He nips at Malcolm's lower lip then swipes his tongue over the spot to soothe the sting. The way Malcolm groans into his mouth tells him Malcolm is enjoying this just as much as Gil is.

He hasn't kissed anyone in years, not since Jackie, but the way their mouths fit together, it's like they've been practicing their whole lives. When Gil's tongue darts out to explore Malcolm's mouth, Malcolm's lips part without hesitation, and Gil moans as their tongues slide together and he gets his first real taste of the man he's been dreaming about for the last few years. It's even better than he imagined. 

Malcolm tastes like licorice and soda — vending machine staples from the hospital waiting room — and Gil licks it up like it's the most delicious treat he's ever had. It's possible that it is. They kiss until they have to break for air, but Gil doesn't pull back far. He holds Bright close enough that they're still sharing breaths with one another, lips grazing occasionally as their chests heave.

"Gil?" Malcolm eventually asks.

"Yeah, kid?" Gil asks, trying valiantly to keep his voice level, afraid that Malcolm is going to say that this was a mistake, that he should leave. 

Gil won't hesitate to go if that's what Malcolm wants, but he knows it would break his heart — a heart still tender from the loss of Jackie. And so, his fragile heart races as he watches Malcolm take a deep breath and lick his lips, his smile faltering ever so slightly, leading Gil to believe Malcolm might just be as nervous as he is.

"I want you," Malcolm says quietly, eyes flicking over Gil's face in a way that Gil recognizes from when he's profiling a scene or a suspect, searching for concealed clues. He must see something that lends him some courage, because he adds more firmly, "I want you inside of me."

For Gil, it's like breaking the surface and taking deep, heaving gulps of air after nearly drowning. He sucks in a breath and releases it in a low moan, blood rushing south as Malcolm utters the words he's been longing to hear. He tugs him in for a bruising kiss, tongues tangling as Gil invades Malcolm's mouth in answer. He feels Malcolm's hands shift to dip beneath his turtleneck sweater, sliding up his abdomen to settle just below his pecs, fingers toying with his nipples.

With his tongue in the kid's mouth and Malcolm's fingers tugging at his nipples, Gil's nerves are set afire, flames licking through his body straight to his cock. He groans and slides an arm around Malcolm's lower back, only to be abruptly pulled from his growing arousal by Malcolm's hiss of pain. Gil yanks both of his arms away from Malcolm's body, hands hovering uselessly by his shoulders as he tries to step back, but Malcolm wraps his arms around Gil's waist, holding him in place in a surprisingly firm grip.

"I'm fine," Malcolm assures him, leaning up to nip at Gil's jaw, stroking his hands over Gil's back as soon as he can feel that Gil is no longer trying to step away. "Don't stop."

Malcolm starts tugging at Gil's sweater, bunching it up as he tries to push it over his head, but Gil sees the pain in Malcolm's eyes as he lifts his arms and stretches out his bruised ribs. While Gil appreciates the enthusiasm, he has a sudden and overwhelming urge to make sure that Malcolm doesn't experience anything but pleasure for the rest of the day. 

He stops Malcolm's ministrations with a gentle grip on his arms and a light kiss to the forehead. "Take it easy, kid. I don't want you hurting anymore than you already are." He lets go of Malcolm long enough to pull his sweater over his head and toss it aside, and then his hands are back on Malcolm, one threading through his hair and the other dropping down to intertwine their fingers. Since there's really no turning back at this point, he decides he might as well go all in. "Just relax and let me show you how much I love you," Gil murmurs.

For possibly the first time ever, Bright appears to be speechless. Gil chuckles and leans in to kiss the stunned look off his face.

"Let me take care of you," he says, lips brushing over Malcolm's between kisses. "Is that okay?"

"Yes. Gil, please," Malcolm breathes out as he moves his free hand to Gil's hip, anchoring himself as Gil continues to kiss him. 

While Gil thinks he'll never get enough of licking into Malcolm's mouth, eventually the need to taste the rest of him wins out, and he moves lower, lips trailing along his jaw towards his ear. When he reaches his destination, his tongue shoots out to lick lightly along the shell of Malcolm's ear before taking the earlobe between his teeth to nibble and suck on. Malcolm's breathing picks up into breathless little gasps that let him know he's on the right track to making Malcolm feel good, and Gil thinks that he'd very much like to spend the rest of his life dedicated to that task.

"I've been wanting to do this for so long, Bright, you have no idea," Gil says as he releases Malcolm's ear, hot breath ghosting over the damp skin left behind. He's not sure if the shiver that runs through Malcolm's body is from the words or the current of air over his sensitive skin, but it pleases Gil to no end. 

"I, uh, I think I might have an inkling," Malcolm sputters as he shifts his hips closer to Gil's, and he can feel Malcolm's arousal hard and insistent against his thigh. And God, the thought of Bright getting hard for him sends a wave of desire coursing through his system that leaves him weak in the knees. He backs Malcolm around the bed, leaving them standing beside the mattress, which suddenly feels like a looming presence in the room, a promise of things to come.

"I'm gonna make this so good for you, kid," Gil practically growls before he latches his mouth over the juncture between Malcolm's neck and shoulder, the same spot he always rests his hand on when he allows himself the contact, and begins to suck and lick at the skin, determined to leave a mark of his own behind on Bright. He worries the skin between his teeth, knowing that every time he lays his hand there in the coming days, it will remind them both of their time here. Together.

Once he's confident that a lasting mark has been made, Gil trails his lips down Malcolm's collarbone, over his chest, and down his stomach as he lowers himself to his knees in front of him. He brings his hands to the button of Malcolm's pants and looks up questioningly, needing to make sure that this is something Malcolm truly wants. 

Malcolm nods, that easy smile spreading anew as Gil, once again, looks out for him. Gil smiles gently up at him as he works the button and zipper and slides Malcolm's pants down his legs, letting them pool at his ankles as he brings his hands to the waistband of Malcolm's boxer briefs and looks up once again only to find Malcolm already nodding.

He chuckles quietly but begins to pull down his underwear, sucking in a deep breath as Malcolm's half-hard cock springs into view and Gil finds himself aching for a taste. He holds himself back, though, wanting to get Malcolm situated comfortably first. He guides Malcolm to sit on the edge of the bed before untying his shoes and directing him to lift one foot at a time, allowing Gil to remove his shoes, socks, pants and underwear, leaving Malcolm gloriously naked.

"You comfortable like that?" Gil asks, dragging his gaze from Malcolm's dick up to his eyes, to be met with dilated pupils and a look of sheer anticipation. "Is it going to hurt your back or ribs to hold yourself there if I…" Gil's eyes trail back down to Malcolm's rapidly filling cock, letting the look finish his thought for him.

Malcolm huffs out a laugh. "I think I'll live."

Gil doesn't even question it, moving instead to wrap a hand around the base of Malcolm's cock and darting his tongue out to get his first taste. He swipes his tongue flat flicking at the frenulum before swirling it around the head. Malcolm's low groan spurs Gil on, kissing his way down Malcolm's shaft before licking his way back up to the tip, only to wrap his lips over the head to lick and suck at the sensitive flesh.

"Fuck. Gil," Malcolm pants, bringing a hand to the back of Gil's head and running his fingers through his thick locks.

Gil hums a response as he lowers his head, taking Malcolm deeper into his mouth, and the vibrations are clearly a hit if the way Malcolm twitches his hips up is any indication. Gil begins a slow bob, popping off every now and again to lap at the head and fist Malcolm's cock, working with steady, firm strokes.

Malcolm's quiet moans are music to Gil's ears, and he quickly gets lost in his undertaking, working his cock with an enthusiasm born of years of yearning. Eventually, he licks his way down to Malcolm's balls, taking his sac in his mouth and tounging insistently at the warm flesh as he speeds his hand where he's striping Malcolm's cock. He'd be more than happy to keep at it, but soon, Malcolm is tugging lightly at his hair and Gil pulls off, still stroking Malcolm's cock while he looks up to ensure everything is alright. 

"Shit. Gil, I'm so close," Malcolm huffs, struggling to catch his breath. 

Gil opens his mouth and moves to dive right back in, anxious to get Malcolm off, only to be stopped by a tightened grip in his hair.

"I want to come with you inside of me. Please," Malcolm asks, and there is nothing in the world that Gil wants more.

"Lube? Condoms?" Gil asks, pushing himself up from the floor with a grunt as his knees protest the movement.

"Lube's in the top drawer," Malcolm says, nodding to his bedside table. "I, um. I'm clean. And would really love to feel you without a barrier, if that's alright with you. Otherwise condoms are in there, too."

Gil groans at the thought of taking Malcolm bareback, and he suddenly notices how tight his own pants are feeling, his erection straining against the zipper. He gives himself a quick rub with the heel of his palm before opening the drawer and grabbing the half full bottle of lube, ignoring the strip of condoms next to it. When he turns back to Malcolm with only the bottle in hand, Malcolm sucks in a sharp breath and his cock twitches at the conspicuous absence of a condom.

"I want to feel you, too," Gil moves in front of Malcolm and runs a thumb over his cheekbone, staring into the ice blue eyes that are looking up at him with a smoldering heat that threatens to set him ablaze. Gil bends down to claim his mouth one last time before shifting them both carefully onto the bed.

The bruising that's already forming on Malcolm's back, along with the damaged ribs, severely limits their options on positions, but with some pillows to prop around him, Gil gets Malcolm comfortably settled on his side in the middle of the bed. Quickly shucking the last of his own clothes, Gil crawls behind Malcolm to double check that he's not in any pain.

"Are you comfortable like that?" Gil checks in before he moves any further, hand resting on Bright's hip.

"Yes, thank you, Gil," Malcolm says, turning his head to look at where Gil is kneeling behind him, leaning over to adjusting the pillows at his ribs. "Really. Thank you for always taking care of me."

"Always, kid. You know that," he says, the meaning running deeper than ever before.

He settles himself on his side behind Malcolm, sliding his arm beneath Malcolm's head and wrapping it across his chest, taking a moment to just breath in the scent of the body next to him. When Malcolm rolls his hips back, ass rubbing against Gil's aching cock, he snaps out of his reverie and gets to work. He pops open the lube and quickly coats the fingers of one hand, capping it and leaving it behind him for easy access.

He reaches down and slowly trails his fingers along Malcolm's crack, fingers brushing over his twitching hole and carrying on, stopping to rub at his perineum for a little before moving back to their prize. He circles his rim, alternating teasing brushes with firm touches, relaxing the muscle enough that his finger eventually slides in without resistance. 

The way Malcolm melts onto his embrace with a sigh makes Gil's heart feel lighter than it has in years. He takes his time, pumping his finger in and out, nice and slow. Malcolm is so much more responsive than he'd ever imagined, every push and drag of Gil's finger eliciting a groan or gasp or a clench of the muscles around the digit. It's beautiful. 

Between kisses to Malcolm's nape and shoulder, Gil asks, "Are you ready for another finger?"

"Yes," Malcolm sighs, pushing back on Gil's finger.

Gil adds a second finger, sliding in torturously slowly, hyper-focussed on Malcolm's body and how he reacts to the intrusion, ensuring he doesn't cause any discomfort. Once his fingers are in as far as he can push them, he pauses to lean forward, encouraging Bright to turn his head and meet him for a kiss, waiting until their tongues are dancing together before he begins to pump his hand, scissoring his fingers. Malcolm groans into his mouth, the kiss becoming nothing more than mouths pressed together as Malcolm's attention is consumed by Gil's talented fingers stretching him open.

Two fingers soon become three, and Gil is once again content to take all the time in the world, but soon Malcolm is begging for more.

"Please, Gil," he begs breathlessly, "I'm ready. I need your cock."

Gil never could say no to Malcolm. 

He pulls his fingers out slowly, loving the way Malcolm's hole flutters around the tips of his fingers, searching for more, and Gil's cock throbs as he thinks about filling him back up.

He grabs a bit more lube and gives his cock a few perfunctory pumps to slick himself up before shifting his hips forward to get closer to Malcolm's ass.

"Do you think you can lift your leg without hurting your ribs?" Gil asks as he runs his tongue along the shell of Malcolms ear. He's honestly not sure how much range of motion Malcolm currently has and doesn't want to push him to do anything to aggravate his injuries. 

Instead of answering, Malcolm just lifts his top leg up, pulling it up and towards his body and holding in place with his hand, leaving Gil with clear access to Malcolm's pert ass. He lines himself up with Bright's entrance, letting the tip of his cock tease the rim for just a moment, only pushing in when Malcolm's moan turns needy. The head of his cock pops through the muscle and both men groan at the pressure. Malcolm is still so fucking tight.

Gil pushes in slowly, savoring the tight heat as it engulfs his cock one glorious inch at a time. They're both panting heavily by the time Gil bottoms out.

"Christ, Bright. You feel perfect," Gil says, dropping his head to Malcolm's shoulder, giving Malcolm a moment to adjust, and giving himself a moment to keep from coming before they even get started. When he's gotten himself under control, and when Malcolm starts shifting his hips, Gil wraps his arm under Malcolm's thigh and begins to move.

He pulls back until he almost pops out of Malcolm's body then pushes firmly back in, right to the hilt.

"Nnngh, Gil!" Malcolm cries as Gil sets a steady pace, praying to God that he can draw more of those noises out of Malcolm. 

His prayers are answered almost immediately, as Bright cries out with every brush of Gil's cock over that sensitive bundle of nerves inside of him. He's more vocal than Gil ever dared to dream, and every moan spurs Gil on. 

It's a struggle to keep the pace slow and steady, mindful of Bright's injuries, when his body is screaming at him to drive in faster and chase after his own pleasure. Frankly, though, if he can bring Malcolm just a small amount of pleasure after everything he's been through, it doesn't really matter to Gil whether or not he gets off, himself.

"Gil," Malcolm exhales, turning his head to look back at Gil. 

Using the arm around Malcolm's chest, Gil pulls him closer, careful not to hold him too tightly, but wanting to let him know he's really listening.

"I'm not made of glass, you know," Malcolm smirks, knowing damn well that Gil is keeping things gentle for his benefit. "I'm just a bit, ahhhhhh—" The smirk on Malcolm's face is temporarily wiped away by a well-timed thrust that leaves him slack-jawed and punches the air right from his lungs, but he does manage to finish his sentence, "bruised. Not broken."

Gil actually slows his pace to better lean in and lick at Malcolm's lips, tongue sliding once again into the heat of his mouth as he continues to thrust in shallow bursts.

"I don't want to hurt you." Gil pulls back to look into Malcolm's eyes, the weight of the words — and all of their deeper meanings — hanging between them. 

"I trust you," Malcolm says so sincerely that Gil has no doubt that he means it with every fiber of his being.

"This is what you want?" Gil asks as he snaps his hips and thrusts deeper and deeper inside of Malcolm.

"Oh, God. Yes. Gil. Yes," Malcolm's eyes slam shut, pleasure painted in broad strokes across his face as Gil pumps vigorously into his waiting body. 

The fact that it's Malcolm that he's sliding into is more than enough to push Gil towards climax, and he knows he's not going to last much longer. Judging by the incoherent moans coming from Malcolm, he's not far behind. Gil shifts his hand from holding Malcolm's leg up, over to his cock where it's bouncing stiff against his belly with every thrust. It only takes a few strokes before Gil feels Malcolm's entire body tense, and then he's coming hard in Gil's hand, ropes of come spurting onto his chest and the bedding below. 

Gil feels Malcolm's cock jerking in his hand, feels the sticky wetness of the come as it spreads over his hand on every downstroke, but he can't tear his eyes away from Malcolm's face. With his eyes closed and his mouth locked open in a silent 'oh', he looks the picture of pure bliss. That, combined with the rhythmically clenching muscles around his cock, send him careening over the edge. Two more thrusts and he's coming inside of Malcolm, grinding into him as he rides out his orgasm, all while continuing to stroke Malcolm through his.

When Malcolm hisses with oversensitivity, Gil releases his cock and slides his hand to Malcolm's flat stomach, holding him snug against his body while he finishes unloading into his warm channel with a grunt.

They lay there for quite some time, panting for breath and basking in their post-coital bliss. Gil allows his hand to wander from Malcolm's stomach up his chest and back, holding him close and laying soft kisses along his neck.

He'd like to stay here forever, with Malcolm warm and happy in his arms, but there's a case to get back to, and a discussion that desperately needs to happen.

"I know we need to talk," Malcolm says slightly above a whisper, and Gil's not at all surprised that Malcolm knows exactly what he was thinking about. "But can we just stay like this a little longer?"

Gil never could say no to Malcolm.

But this time he doesn't even want to.

"Yeah, kid," Gil answers with a gentle kiss behind his ear, "we can stay as long as you want."


End file.
